


Green and Gold

by mia6363



Series: 90s Nostalgia Power Hour [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Home Alone (Movies), The Sixth Sense (1999)
Genre: Curses, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, I also just kinda made up magic stuff but that's the essence of fic so, Implied Murder, M/M, Mutual Pining, Necromancy, Off Screen Violence, Past Murder, Sexual Tension, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, hope that's all right, so naturally I wrote it, the cross over no one asked for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-08 13:50:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18624538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mia6363/pseuds/mia6363
Summary: Your son is a wizard, Ms. Sear.Wizard beatfreak,but as Cole wrung his hands in robes that were too big for him in a train car or room… what were rooms on trains called? His heart pounded in his chest and he wasn’t sure if beingmagicmade his life any easier. He still saw the dead. They still could speak to him, touch him, hurt him… but apparently a school in England was the best bet at learning to control his magic.





	Green and Gold

“This is bullshit.” 

_“Kevin,_ language!” His mother’s voice was sharp was a whip. Her grip was tight on Kevin’s arm. “Why aren’t there any _directions_ printed anywhere. Or any attendants? Peter,” his mom’s eyes shot to his father, “where are the _attendants?”_

Platform Nine and Three-Quarters was truly alien to Kevin. There was nothing like it in America, and he wasn’t sure if it was a _good_ or _bad_ different. Buzz picked his nose and flicked whatever came out at a nearby pillar. Kevin grimaced, mouthing _gross_ as he glanced down the platform. 

Families bustled with familiarity that the McCallisters lacked. They moved with disinterested confidence that made Kevin’s stomach _twist_ painfully. Between some fussy mothers, screaming kids, and a sea of black robes, Kevin caught a glimpse of a kid his age. He was with a man, an Auror in full uniform, who had a steady grip on the kid’s shoulder. 

Billowing white smoke covered the pair and Kevin was forced to duck out from Buzz’s attempt at smearing a snot-covered finger along the back of his neck. 

“Kevin, stop squirming,” his mother hissed. 

“Yeah, Kevin,” Buzz sneered. “Stop squirming.” 

“Buzz,” his mother’s voice made Buzz’s smirk fall off his face. She turned back to Kevin. “So _apparently_ the school attendants will be waiting _after_ you get off the train. You have your bags, you have your wand, your robes…” She knelt down at the knee so she was eye-level with him. “You’ll be _fine._ We’re a letter or Floo visit away, okay?”

Kevin was tempted to remind her, _again,_ that the only reason he was even _going_ to some weird school overseas was her idea. As far as Kevin could tell, everything _about_ Hogwarts was needlessly complicated. In America, they still used school busses, just took different routes that were disguised by magic. The _thought_ of school uniforms made Kevin laugh. In England, they had to go to some secret alley, buy a bunch of weird stuff, get his wand _inspected,_ and then walk through a random pillar at a train station. 

He crossed his arms, swallowing down the _bad attitude_ because his mother’s eyes were watering. 

“Yeah.” He shrugged. “Okay.” 

She hugged him tight. He still had the sudden realization that all the familiar things in his house were going to be taken from him. His mother’s perfume, the sound of Buzz throwing his backpack on the couch, or the how his sister would whisper “okay, okay, okay,” before got on the school bus. _I just wanted to be alone,_ Kevin had screamed, _that’s all I wanted, the rest isn’t my fault—_

He squeezed his eyes shut, a shiver quaking through his body. His mother’s lips pressed a bruising kiss to his cheek.

“I love you Kevin.” 

He opened his eyes, blinking the blur from his eyes. 

“I love you too, mom.” 

He didn’t cry, because he knew it would make his mom cry _and_ Buzz would be a jerk. Kevin turned, his bags clutched tightly in his hands, and boarded the train. 

::::

_Your son is a wizard, Ms. Sear._

Wizard beat _freak,_ but as Cole wrung his hands in robes that were too big for him in a train car or room… what were rooms on trains called? His heart pounded in his chest and he wasn’t sure if being _magic_ made his life any easier. He still saw the dead. They still could speak to him, touch him, hurt him… but apparently a school in England was the best bet at learning to control his magic. 

At least, that was what Malcolm said. 

Cole took off his robes, folding them into a huggable bundle. He squeezed the fabric to his chest, taking deep breaths as the train lurched, the whistle blowing out more white smoke before it began to roll forward. 

_Study hard, Cole,_ his mother had whispered when she hugged him in Philadelphia, Malcolm standing in their doorway with Cole’s single suitcase in his hand. _Write, okay? I know I don’t know anything about,_ she waved her hand instead of saying “magic,” _but I’m always here for you. Look at my face,_ and Cole did, tears rolling down his cheeks, _I love you, kiddo._

Malcolm was an Auror. _Like a policeman?_ Cole had asked. Malcolm’s smile was sad, kinda like his mother’s when it was a late night and she was alone. _A mix of a policeman and a doctor._ He explained that the other kids were like Cole, but most of them had the advantage of being born into magical families. Cole had no idea about wizards and witches until a few days ago. 

_This is a good thing,_ Cole reminded himself as the white smoke blew away to reveal rolling green hills dotted with sheep. _This is a good—_

The door to the car opened and another kid that looked to be his age nearly fell on his way in. 

“Are you saving this for anyone?” Cole's eyes widened. The boy was an American. “Everyone seems to already know each other or are saving it and—”

“No. I'm not,” Cole sucked in a breath, “I'm not saving it for anyone.”

The boy lit up like a Christmas tree, his mouth falling open and splitting wide into a grin. The boy threw his three suitcases carelessly to the side and grabbed Cole's hands.

“You're American too! Oh man,” the boy shook his hand, “I'm from Chicago! Where are you from?”

“Um,” Cole didn't know where to look first, at the expensive suitcases with a green and yellow plaid pattern, the boy's blue eyes, or the tight grip on his hands. “Philadelphia.”

“Cool, cool.” The boy sat down with a loud sigh, his grin fading into a lopsided smile. “It's weird being told I'm the one with an accent.” He bumped his sneaker against Cole's shin. “It’s nice having someone who gets it, you know?”

Cole didn't know, but he nodded anyway. The boy stretched his his arms like he was settling into a familiar chair. Cole swallowed and had to try a few times before actual words made it out of his mouth.

“What's your name?”

A loud _smack_ made Cole flinch away as the boy slapped his palm on his forehead. 

“I knew I was forgetting something. I’m Kevin,” he held out his hand again. Cole shook it. “Kevin McCallister.” 

“Cole Sear.” Kevin mouthed Cole’s name with a nod, like he _wanted_ to remember it. Cole let go of Kevin’s hand, already missing it’s warmth. “Do you know anything about this school? I don’t… I’m not really familiar with magic stuff, in general.” 

“Oh?” Kevin perked up again. “Are you from a no-maj family?” 

It turned out that Kevin _loved_ no-maj things, to the point where he’d hoped that his magic _wouldn’t_ manifest so he could go to a regular American school. At Cole’s baffled look, Kevin shrugged, his cheeks pink. _Like the movies of kids in classrooms, using pencils and learning math… I just think that’s so cool._ Kevin didn’t offer much more information than Malcolm had. _I don’t know, this school is famous or something._

Kevin talked about so many things. He asked questions about non-magical things like _do you have a VCR? Nintendo? Does his mom have a car? Was Cole going to learn how to drive one day? Did he ever make mixtapes?_ He also was eager to answer Cole’s questions, which always ended up devolving into trading stories, until questions weren’t asked and instead it was just one story after another. 

Cole couldn’t remember the last time someone talked to him so much and for so long, until both of their voices were hoarse and the train rolled to a stop. The moment the doors opened, Kevin wove his arm through Cole’s, pulling him close as they stepped onto small boats that rowed themselves along a sparkling lake lit with floating lanterns. Cole couldn’t stop staring at every facet, but both him and Kevin shuddered at the sight of the _castle._

“Whoa,” Cole whispered. 

“Yeah,” Kevin replied. Kevin cleared his throat and Cole tore his eyes away from the massive castle when Kevin nudged his ribs. “Cole,” Kevin forced his voice into a breathy falsetto, “I’ve a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore.” 

The other kids in the boats looked nervous, all young like Cole and Kevin, and some were outwardly nervous while others just wrung their hands. No one was laughing, at least, no one except Cole and Kevin, giggling as the boats hit the shore. 

::::

By the time Kevin made it to the big wooden double-doors, shoulder-to-shoulder with the rest of the herded children, he didn’t feel as bad. Mostly because Cole was by his side. Of all the things they talked about, of all the years they covered in random tales, neither one of them explained how they were enrolled. Cole’s robes didn’t fit, and his wand was the most expensive item on him. He had no clue about Hogwarts, so his parents didn’t pay to have him accepted. 

If Kevin asked, then he’d have to tell his story as well. 

Cole’s eyes were wide as the doors opened. He heard Cole’s breath catch and Kevin squeezed Cole’s hand. 

“So according to my dad, this school divides us into teams.” He walked forward with Cole, whispering into his ear as the ceremony got started. “They put this hat on your head and it calls out a name, and then you go to that team or something.” 

Cole’s squeezed Kevin’s hand. 

“Does it hurt?” 

Kevin huffed. 

“It better not.” 

Kevin watched, his body prickling as kids went one by one up to the hat where Headmistress McGonagall stood as a witness. Cole’s hand was sweaty in his, and Kevin wasn’t much better. The crowd dwindled, and Kevin hadn’t been paying attention to who went where, not until his name was called. 

“All right,” he turned to Cole. “I’ll see you soon, right?” 

Cole nodded as his fingers slipped from Kevin’s grasp. 

“R-Right.” 

Kevin had to admit, he was as scared as Cole looked, but growing up with brothers and sisters taught Kevin that the first trick to survival was never _looking_ scared. He walked to Headmistress’s side, keeping his posture straight even as a tables full of kids, big and small, stared at him. 

“Mister McCallister,” Headmistress McGonagall shaped his name into a whip crack. “Please, have a seat.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

Kevin hurried to the chair, the rows of tables behind him, waiting for his judgement. He felt the weathered cloth touch his his head. 

_**Mmm, I’ve never come across this bloodline before.**_ Kevin felt it wriggle on his head, it’s voice echoing throughout the hall. _**Very interesting… the things you’ve done in the name of comfort.**_ Kevin froze and within a span of a half-second, was consumed with a blind panic that this stupid hat was going to tell _everyone_ why he’d been shipped out of the United States, and it wasn’t that Kevin was _ashamed,_ per say, but he knew that he _should_ feel embarrassed. Horrified. It was that lack of response that terrified his mother. _**Welcome to Hogwarts, I expect your imagination will be valued. Slytherin!**_

Kevin let out a long breath as a few tables jumped up, cheering, waving him over. Green and silver were nice colors. Kevin took a seat and waited. Cole would be sorted into Slytherin and then they’d still be able to talk. There wasn’t a doubt in Kevin’s mind as Cole was called up, his footfalls silent as he sat on the chair. 

_**Another new bloodline, very, very interesting.**_ Cole’s shoulders jumped and Kevin wished he could be next to him, to say that it was only a little scary at first, but once it was over he would feel so much better. _**A lot of fear in you… but the things you’re afraid of are very serious indeed. Smart boy.**_ Kevin could catch a hint of Cole’s chin and cheek, and he saw that it was moving. Whispering to the hat. _**No. That house will not suit you, I’m afraid. Hufflepuff!**_

Kevin’s heart sank as a table that _wasn’t_ his jumped up to cheer. 

“Hey,” Kevin elbowed some kid next to him. “Can I take the,” he waved his hand at the hat, “test again? I think I was put on the wrong team.” 

“What?” The boy’s face next to him twisted into a baffled frown. “No.”

Kevin twisted around to watch Cole sit next to a girl at the Hufflepuff table. Cole asked her something, sneaking a glance and meeting Kevin’s eyes. The girl put her arm around Cole and turned him away from the Slytherin table with a sweet smile. 

_Fuck,_ Kevin thought. He wrung his hands under the table. _I mean, whatever. We’ll probably have classes together._ It was a big school, it’s not like Kevin _had_ to do everything with his House. 

He’d see Cole again. 

:::::

Cole Sear learned early on that _special_ was not a kind word. 

Special meant that he was smart even if his grades didn’t reflect it, special meant kids couldn’t relate to him, special meant that Cole had a habit of knowing histories of places despite not reading up on them. Special meant… special meant he could see the dead. Special, for the _longest_ time, meant Cole had to lie to his mother, had to grind his teeth at night, and hold himself tight in class until his muscles ached. 

Being a wizard felt like he would finally be able to change the meeting of the word… until Headmistress McGonagall and Hufflepuff House Head Sprout pulled Cole out of his first class.

“Mr. Sear, please have a seat.” 

Headmistress McGonagall’s office was intimidating and homey. It was a strange combination that made Cole nauseous as he stood, rigid, on a worn rug with a hole at the corner. Her desk was the largest piece of furniture in the room. The shelves, side tables, and tapestries were worn, with noticeable wear-and-tear. It reminded Cole of his house. 

_Maybe there’s a spell for that,_ Cole thought with a miserable weight in his stomach as he took the chair with a slight wobble on the one leg. Professor Sprout stood by the door, her smile reassuring despite Cole now having no direct access to an immediate exit. 

“You were highly recommended by Unspeakable Crowe.” Cole’s immediate confusion must have been evident because the Headmistress’s expression softened. “Malcolm.” 

“Oh.” Cole nodded, slouching with relief. “Yeah— I mean, yes. He’s been very helpful.” Cole glanced back at Sprout. “Am I in trouble?” 

“No,” the Headmistress insisted, her smile warm. “Not at all. I’m not sure how much Malcolm explained to you about just how special you are. Necromancy is one of the oldest studies of magic, but there are not a lot of witches and wizards who are naturally attuned for its intricacies and possibilities. Cole,” Cole quickly straightened in his chair, “I plan to provide these specific lessons myself, but I’d like to know what you’d like out of them.”

Cole bit his lip, his heart pounding in his chest as he let himself _hope._

“I don’t want to be scared anymore.” 

Professor Sprout made a soft sound in her throat before she gently squeezed Cole’s shoulder. 

“You don’t have to worry about that. The key to getting over fear is understanding, and you are enrolled in one of the finest schools in the world.” 

Really, being a wizard was fine, but all Cole wanted was to get better, to not have his mom worry anymore. As the Headmistress went into details about extra reading and studying, Cole vowed to work hard. Maybe, if he worked around enough, he could go home and his mother wouldn’t need to immediately ask if he was okay because he _would_ be okay. 

Headmistress McGonagall’s plan was to rotate Cole out of a different class each week. A fellow Hufflepuff would take notes for him, and he’d go to his _extra_ class. It didn’t _feel_ like class, not when Professor Sprout had been right. The more he learned, the less scared he became. 

Cole wasn’t _happy_ … but he was hopeful. 

If he could change one thing, it would just be the strange issue everyone seemed to have with Slytherins. When he asked a classmate if he could switch tables during breakfast and mentioned wanting to sit at the Slytherin table, the raised eyebrows that he received made him shrink back. 

_Why would you want to do that?_

Cole wasn’t brave enough to retort _Why not?_ He wasn’t brave enough to just get out of his seat and sit next to Kevin. He wasn’t brave enough to… risk having Kevin give him the same look of _what are you doing?_ Cole got enough of that back home.

So he dove back into studying. He took extensive notes and learned as much as he could. One day, Cole told himself, he’d be brave enough to sit at the Slytherin tables. 

One day, if he worked hard enough, he wouldn’t have to be afraid anymore. 

:::: 

Sylvia Melville had dealt with a lot of weird circumstances, which wasn’t surprising since she was the Slytherin Prefect. It was a valuable experience, teaching her to keep a calm mind under stressful circumstances, and learning what battles she could win or had to concede. She turned the page of her latest book of modernized Charms, waiting until curfew began so she could start her hour-long patrol of the halls, when there was a small tug on her sleeve. 

She looked up and saw first year Kevin McCallister in blue plaid pajamas with his robes thrown on top, like he’d considered going to bed but just couldn’t manage it. His hair was a mess and his lips were chapped because he wouldn’t stop worrying them with his teeth. It was just over a month into the school year. Enough time had passed for the first years to find familiarity in their class routine, find new friends, and ease into the school’s many rules and traditions. It was also the time when homesickness struck the hardest. 

If she was being honest, she was surprised Kevin hadn’t come to her sooner. She’d already spoken to other Slytherin First Years, but he was an American. The distance must have been extra difficult, judging from how awful he looked. Without a word she moved over on the couch and Kevin sat down, grabbing a throw pillow to hug to his chest. 

There were a lot of questions surrounding Kevin, but Sylvia knew better than to ask them outright. The rest of her peers followed her example, which was good since they were, after all, Slytherins. Still, she didn’t expect Kevin to sniff and whisper: _I think my friend has gone missing._

All it took was for Sylvia to raise her eyebrows for Kevin to go off, his hands gesturing wildly about a missing _Hufflepuff_ that no one seemed to notice was gone. Sylvia held up her hand. 

“I’m confused,” she dogearing her book and putting it on the table, “you’re concerned about a Hufflepuff First Year? First year Slytherins don’t have any classes with Hufflepuff.” She nudged Kevin with her foot. “I’m sure your friend is fine. If he skips breakfast every so often—” 

“Every day.” Kevin crossed his arms. “And he’s not at dinners either. On the weekends I can’t find him anywhere.” 

Sylvia hadn’t heard much about Kevin other than that he was American. At a glance, he seemed too bright-eyed to be a proper Slytherin, but Sylvia was accustomed to surprises. It was the nature of Hogwarts. 

“I’ve never seen you with a Hufflepuff.” 

“I..” Kevin crossed his arms, his gaze dropping to his feet. “I sat with him on the train. He’s an American like me so, we um…” Kevin huffed. “Look, I know it’s not _cool_ to sit at different tables at breakfast but… I guess I should have and now I don’t see him _ever._ ” Kevin glanced at the rest of the Common Room, at how kids were slowly heading to bed one by one as curfew approached. His shoulders slumped. “Forget it.”

“No,” Sylvia checked her pocket watch, “we’ve got some time left. Let’s go.” 

They both hurried up the stairs and through the falls wall that hid the entrance to the Slytherin Common rooms. She hurried through the Great Hall and went east. 

Kevin’s footfalls were soft but he kept pace. 

“I thought we’d go to Hufflepuff.” 

They made it to the staircases. Sylvia and Kevin just barely made it on before it lurched, moving slowly. She steadied Kevin so he didn’t slip. 

“The Head Boy and I don’t get along.”

Hufflepuffs could be vipers when they wanted to be, but mostly through sheer idiocy. Their biggest row last year quite public, which ended with the Hufflepuff Head Boy claiming that Slytherin students couldn’t be bullied, only taught a valuable lesson, moments before she slung mud to stain his robes. 

She would rather deal with a Gryffindor than see his face. 

“Where are we going?” 

“To Gryffindor so we can get to McGonagall. If we can get the Head Girl on your side, it can speed up the process of being seen by the Headmistress.” Sylvia slowed her pace. “She doesn’t like me… but you’ve got a shot. Just be convincing.” 

She spared a glance back at Kevin and his smirk was reassuring that the Sorting Hat really didn’t make mistakes. 

“Crocodile tears? No problem. I’m the youngest of four.” 

“That’s good. She’s the youngest sister of a whole herd.” They arrived at a portrait of a large woman in a pink dress. Sylvia cleared her throat. “We’d like to speak to Head Girl Ginny Weasley.” 

The portrait straightened her dress. 

_“I’ll announce you.”_

Kevin bounced, his eyes exhausted but alert. Sylvia managed to keep still even though asking a Gryffindor Head Girl for help wasn’t exactly pleasant. When the portrait swung forward, Ginny Weasley stepped out. Her eyes widened when she saw Sylvia. 

“Oh. Hello.” She hopped out of the doorway. “What’s going on?” 

“Kevin’s concerned about the well-being of a Hufflepuff student, enough that we’d like to see Headmistress McGonagall.”

“Why didn’t you go to— oh,” Ginny winced. “Right.” 

Ginny shifted her eyes from Sylvia to Kevin. He straightened, fixing a non-existent wrinkle in his cuffs. Kevin stated his concerns just like he had with Sylvia minutes earlier, but then his voice hitched. 

“I’m the youngest of four and,” his voice cracked, his eyes shining in the candlelit halls, “it’s hard not to miss home sometimes. And when I found him on the train it was like a miracle. Like I wasn’t so alone anymore and… it’s just weird, right? He’s never been at breakfast or dinner for weeks and when I try to ask the Hufflepuffs about him they just blow me off and…” Sylvia thought, _God, he’s good_ right before Kevin’s shoulders fell. When he lifted his eyes off the floor they were fiery. “I should have just sat with him at breakfast. It’s my fault.” 

Kevin clenched his fists, his jaw tight and Sylvia realized that Kevin was not as helpless as he let on. The anger, despite it being aimed at itself, was more mature than his face would have others believe. 

“Come on,” Ginny closed the portrait behind her. “We’re going to McGonagall.” 

Kevin struggled to keep up, due to him being shorter and exhausted as they were well past curfew. Sylvia fell back from Ginny for a few moments to flash him an impressed smile, but was surprised when Kevin ignored it, only focusing on the red, chipped door to McGonagall’s office.

Ginny knocked three times, her knuckles surprisingly hard against the wood. 

“Headmistress,” Ginny spared a quick glance at Sylvia. “It’s Ginny Weasley. I won’t take much of your time—”

“Come in.”

Ginny drew back and the door opened, swinging inward. A rush of warmth blew back Sylvia’s hair. The interior of the Headmistress’s office had the same rug as Sylvia’s grandmother and smelled like her mother’s homegrown herb garden. She wondered what familiar aspects appeared for Ginny and Kevin, what intimate details of their past were perfectly reflected to put them at ease. 

The Headmistress was regal, unshakable even at the sudden interruption at the late hour. Sylvia kept her shoulders level and made her her knees weren’t locked. 

“Miss Weasley, Miss Melville and Mister—” 

Typically, the rule of _respect the Headmistress_ was unspoken and never _had_ to be reiterated. From Sylvia's experience, McGonagall’s mere presence commanded respect with certainty. When Kevin _bolted_ from behind Sylvia’s legs, she was frozen in shock, such an act so out of the realm of possibility. Ginny’s mouth hung open and the unflappable Headmistress McGonagall’s eyes widened, her chair scraping against the stone floor. 

_“You’re alive,”_ Kevin shouted moments before he threw his arms around a small, thin boy who was sitting on at the table with McGonagall. 

That was how Sylvia was introduced to Cole Sear, with her heart hammering in her chest, the Gryffindor Head Girl speechless at her side, and Headmistress McGonagall’s lips twitching. 

Kevin gestured excitedly, much more awake than he’d previously been. He grabbed the boy’s hands, grinning so wide that Sylvia’s cheeks ached just looking at it. The boy’s face was pink, but his smile was warm, relieved. 

When the boy hugged Kevin, Sylvia caught a glimpse of the victorious grin.

_Sneaky Slytherin,_ Sylvia thought with pride.

::::

Everyone always asked Cole why him and Kevin worked, as if they were a piece of machinery that didn’t follow the laws of physics. Cole didn’t think it was that complicated. Sometimes people just got along. He didn’t like how the tone of the question would change, how what began as waggled eyebrows turned into deeply rooted paranoia that Cole refused bend to, even if it meant that Ravenclaw Fifth Year Gordon Willerby threw him against a wall. 

“Aren’t you worried about that _snake?”_

Cole thought that because of all the extra weight he put on, it would dissuade bullies. When it came vendettas against Slytherins, there were no limits. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about—” 

That got him a punch to the stomach. Cole thought his Third Year would be a little more positive than wheezing on the stone floor, fighting back the urge to vomit as fingers tangled in his hair, forcing his head back. 

“Who knew chubby Hufflepuffs could speak _Parseltongue?”_

The Ravenclaw made a lewd motion with his hand and mouth. His was ugly and oily, his breath hot against Cole’s face moments before he was dropped back down to the floor. 

Cole sat back and caught his breath as the Ravenclaw stomped away, toward the dining hall where the rest of the students would be gathering in just under an hour. The cold stone was a relief against his back. He tilted his head back and did his best to straighten out his robes. 

_“Gonna be honest, it’s hard to believe a Slytherin would be worth all that.”_

Cole opened his eyes to see a red-headed young man leaning against the wall, a loose maroon tie hung around his neck. Cole blinked through the throbbing pain in his stomach. He was tall, older than Cole, had a mess of freckles and a crooked, slightly sympathetic smile. He knew professors didn’t do much about bullying or “petty squabbles” between the students, but this was a new low. 

He stood, brushing over the dust on his tattered robes. 

“I can introduce you. He’d change your mind.” The man flinched, his eyes going wide. Cole pressed his hand over his stomach, leaning against the wall. “What do you teach?” 

_“Bloody hell,”_ a few shouts came from the end of the hall as more students got out of their classes. Cole rubbed his eyes and realized that he’d missed the the burns on his clothes and the dirt and dried blood that matted his hair around the temples. _“You can see me?”_

Ghosts in Hogwarts were strange. There were several ghosts that the students could see, though they were all centuries old and had gone through an arduous spell process which could only be done seventy years after death. The other souls had to wait, and those were the ones that only Cole could see. 

There were no solid _reasons_ as to why some witches and wizards could see the dead plain as day, only folktales. 

A door slammed open just a few feet away. Cole flinched. 

When he looked back, the ghost was gone. 

Cole stumbled out of the corridor, already fumbling for his quill and parchment with questions for McGonagall. So far, he’d merely observed the different spirits, sketched them for her and remarked on the strength of their presence. Direct communication had been forbidden for when he was older, and he’d just broken that rule by accident. _I hope she won’t be too mad, I just didn’t notice the wounds at first—_

A warm arm slung around Cole’s shoulders. 

“Transfiguration ran over and it took _forever,_ I thought I was going to miss you.” Warm breath washed over Cole’s cheek. He smelled smoke, freshly chopped ginger… and something that was distinctly and uniquely Kevin McCallister. “Sylvia is organizing a Slytherin holiday party before break starts and _you_ are invited.” 

Kevin was starting to get taller, already a few inches taller than Cole. Cole just got heavier, which he knew, to some extent, was better than the thin rail he’d been before. He couldn’t help but compare himself to Kevin, and whenever he looked too close he’d hunch his shoulders as bitter self-loathing burned at the pit of his stomach. 

Lately, Cole wondered if Kevin was reading advanced magic books, because he seemed to be able to _tell_ moments before Cole would slip into a silent misery spiral. 

“Are you sure that she invited me? I don’t want to show up and be interrogated at the door.”

“Cole, that was _one time.”_ Kevin huffed and sat down with him at the Hufflepuff dining table. No one batted an eye. “I mean, I’ll pick you up this time.” 

“Kevin—” 

“I have Sylvia's stamp of approval. If the Head Girl says you're good, you're _good.”_

The more Kevin leaned on Cole, the farther the pain in Cole’s abdomen became. 

“When is it?” 

“This Friday.” Kevin bounced in his chair as the rest of them came in. “I gotta go back to my table, Shetty is going to fail Transfiguration and he needs my notes. But, uh,” Kevin’s leg bounced, “will you go? To the party?” 

When Cole had his shared classes with Kevin or saw him across the grassy fields while they passed each other, Kevin always walked tall. His confidence was charming to some, and irritating to most. Cole wondered how many saw Kevin when he was nervous, when pink would dot up his neck and across his cheeks. Cole knew that if everyone could see _that_ part of Kevin, then they probably wouldn’t need to shove Cole into dark hallways and try to convince him that Slytherins were awful. 

A foolish and _awfully selfish_ part of him hoped that Kevin only showed that part of himself to Cole. 

“Sure.” 

Kevin’s posture and face melted, abandoning the slight hunch and curled shoulders for a luminescent grin. 

“Great! I’ll pick you up at seven.” 

A few Hufflepuffs glanced up before returning to their meals. Cole’s ears were hot. 

“I’m just down the hall, you don’t need to—” 

Kevin was already halfway to his table. 

“See you at seven!” 

Cole turned back to his plate and ignored the snickers from his Housemates. 

::::

Shetty shook his head as another one of Kevin’s fire seeds splintered down the middle before it was properly roasted. 

“Move over,” Sol Shetty was the tallest all the third years. He moved like a stick-insect, his limbs doing most of the work while the rest of him took his time. “I’ve never heard of a Slytherin who was bad at Potions.” 

Kevin grimaced, studying how Sol lowered the cauldron’s heat. 

“First time for everything.”

Sol rolled his eyes. 

“Well, you’ve been sh—” Slughorn cleared his throat from his desk and Sol ducked his head. “Sorry. You’ve been, er, really…” 

“Shit, I know.” 

Slughorn groaned. 

“ _Language,_ McCallister and Shetty! Five points from Slytherin.” 

Someone kicked the back of Kevin’s chair, probably Scalby. He had no sense of humor. Kevin sidled closer to Sol, watching as he gently dropped the seeds in the caldron, and within minutes they were blossoming. Kevin let out the breath he’d been holding. Sol’s shoulders relaxed as their caldron smoked with an orange mist, the way the potion was supposed to conclude. 

Sol wiped sweat from his forehead. 

“You know,” Sol lowered his voice, “I heard that Cole’s bad at Herbology.” 

Kevin glanced up at Cole’s name, heat prickling his cheeks. 

“ _And?”_

Sol held up his hands.

“Nothing, geez, calm down.” Sol threw his books into a bag as the class was dismissed. “It’s funny. Hufflepuffs are supposed to be aces at Herbology, but all his plants die. Slytherins are supposed to be good at potions, yet you can’t brew yourself out of a paper bag.” Sol shrugged. “S’funny.” 

Kevin knew that a majority of Hogwarts thought him and Cole were odd, and not just because they were American transfers. The rest of the Hufflepuff House either flashed Kevin familiar, cautious smiles, or were indifferent. Sylvia’s nickname for Cole was _Snake Charmer._

Kevin couldn’t describe it yet, the feeling that he got around Cole compared to everyone else. He wasn’t sure if he ever would be able to do it justice, language seemed so limited. 

He waited outside of the Hufflepuff secret entrance, bouncing on his heels. A few Hufflepuffs walked past with a smirk, one offering a kind, _“we can let you in, Kevin.”_

“That’s all right. Just picking someone up,” he replied with a wink, just as Cole stumbled out of the entrance. Kevin straightened. “Hey.”

Cole had filled out compared to his first year. His cheeks and stomach were rounder, and it made him so soft Kevin just wanted to… to do _something_ that he wasn’t sure he wanted to put words to. 

“Hi.” His arms were loaded down with presents. “Can you help me carry these?” 

“Depends,” Kevin smirked as he took all the boxes out of Cole’s hands, “are any of them for me?” 

Sylvia had planned with her and her Prefects about decoration and music. The Head Boy’s great Aunt had gifted him an enchanted record player, so when Cole and Kevin stepped below to the Slytherin Common rooms. The dark windows that could view beneath the lake were cleaned and twinkling, lanterns casting bits of yellow to cut through the green. 

“Cole!” 

Sylvia crowed his name like a war cry moments before green and silver confetti burst in their faces. Kevin coughed and when his vision cleared Cole had swiped his presents out from Kevin’s grasp. 

“Happy holidays!” Cole dumped his presents on the table. “I got you guys some—” 

“Presents,” Sol laughed, “Sear got us presents!” 

Cole’s cheeks bloomed scarlet but he continued to hand out bundles of cookies and candy. To Cole’s surprise, not to Kevin’s, Cole got presents of his own. Trinkets, cookies, and from Sylvia, a hand-knit gold and black sweater, with green stitching around the cuffs. _Snake_ was written in cursive around the left cuff, _Charmer_ wrapped around the right. 

It wasn’t until some time later, after the music had died down, after the upperclassman had gone to bed, that it was just Kevin and Cole on the couch, their eyes barely open. Kevin yawned, his jaw cracking, and Cole slipped a box into his hands. 

“Merry Christmas, Kevin.” 

Kevin pushed the present he’d clumsily wrapped into Cole’s hands. 

“Merry Christmas, Cole.” 

When Kevin opened his gift, he saw a collection of no-maj toys, all the things he’d wanted when he was a kid. He’d gotten Cole two ornaments, one for each of them. Turtle Doves. Exhaustion pulled at him like quicksand, but he twisted, to meet Cole’s eyes. He opened his mouth, to try to articulate that time moved _differently_ around Cole. What often felt routine and predictable with others, boredom hadn’t soured Cole at all. He made the uncomfortable _comfortable._

Kevin knew he wasn’t smart enough yet to say it right, but he wanted to try… yet he blinked, only his eyes remained shut. 

He woke up to his cheek against pillow softness and someone shaking his shoulder. He opened his eyes to see Sol mouthing _breakfast in ten minutes._ More of his Housemates woke up and were moving. Cole sat up, jostling Kevin. 

“I’m up.” Cole’s new sweater hung off his shoulder and all hopes of Kevin saying anything articulate died. Cole’s hands were soft on Kevin’s shoulders. “M’sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep.” 

All the words that Kevin could have said fell away like sand when Cole’s fingers brushed the soft flesh just under Kevin’s jaw. Kevin managed a weak smile. 

“You’re good.” Kevin sniffed. “I’m gonna miss you over break. Get me a postcard from Philadelphia, okay?” Cole’s lips twisted into a mourning downturn that squeezed Kevin’s heart in it’s frigid grasp. “Cole?” 

“I,” Cole blinked, turning away with hunched shoulders. “I’m going to stay here for Christmas. My, um,” Kevin didn’t know what was worse, the harsh crack in Cole’s words, or the tears that rolled down his cheeks. “My guardian when it comes to my education here… he’s going to be busy and I won’t be able to take the Floo to Philadelphia with him.” 

Kevin’s throat clicked and the room was quiet, mysteriously empty of his Housemates. 

“Don’t you… I mean, I thought when you stepped through the fire that you were going home, to your mom’s house.” 

Cole shook his head, a sour smile on his face. 

“She’s no-maj. It takes at least ten years to get a Floo permit for that… more if it’s,” his breath hitched and Kevin’s fingers tightened into fists, balling up Cole’s sweater, “i-international.” Cole wiped his eyes quickly. “It’s okay, it will be kinda fun. I’ll get to read as much as I want in the library—”

“Come home with me.” Cole’s head whipped back to stare at Kevin. “Chicago isn’t that far from Philadelphia, closer than here. Floo to my house, and your mom can pick you up or I can get a bus ticket, or a train or… or _something.”_

The _smile_ that grew on Cole’s face… it had Kevin leaning forward as _Kiss Him_ echoed across his brain like a Broadway song. It was so shocking, so unfiltered that Kevin quickly caught himself on the couch, digging his fingers into the cushion to _stop_ himself from tasting Cole’s lips. 

“You’d do that?” 

Kevin rolled his eyes. 

“Of course I wou—” 

When two arms wrapped around him and hugged Kevin tighter than he ever had before, he felt something small inside of him unravel, something that had kept itself tiny and tucked away. He heard a few exhales from his Housemates just before they flooded the Common Room with noise, getting ready for the day. 

:::: 

In all his years as an Unspeakable, Malcolm Crowe had never come across a wizard like Cole Sear. 

Centuries of study and civility had, in Malcolm’s opinion, watered down archaic magic from its ancestral roots. There were obviously benefits to modern magic that didn’t require mixture of blood and runes. It meant that a lot of spells were weakened, splintered from their original majesty, divided and divided until each spell served one singular and simple purpose. 

Ancient magic was to be preserved with careful training and rare usage. Unless, of course, a witch or wizard was particularly gifted in the practice. In that very rare case, special supervision, training, and designations were to be implemented immediately. 

None of which Malcolm had subjected to Cole. 

“Malcolm!” Excited footfalls crunched against the snow. Malcolm opened his arms to catch Cole in a tight embrace. “Malcolm, I didn’t think I was going to see you.” 

He swore the kid got bigger and taller every time Malcolm saw him. He’d come along way from when Malcolm had followed him into a cathedral, skeletal and terrified of every shadow. Malcolm held him by his shoulders, taking a good look at how he’d filled out, his cheeks rosy and his smile much brighter than Malcolm remembered. 

“By next year you’re going to be taller than me.” The cold bit at Malcolm’s cheeks. Cole was shielded from the frost by a thick scarf. “I’m sorry I won’t be around to bring you back home for the holidays.” 

Cole’s smile, strangely, widened. 

“It’s okay. Kevin’s going to let me come home with him to Chicago and my mom’s gonna drive out.” 

Cole turned and a thin boy jogged up, his big blue eyes and wispy blonde hair picturesque against the snowy landscape. His handshake was firm. 

“Kevin McCallister,” his smiled, his shoulder bumping against Cole’s. “It’s nice to meet you.” 

Malcolm maintained his smile even as an icy chill shot through him. 

“Malcolm Crowe. It’s good to know that Cole has found a way to be home for the holidays.” Malcolm paused, his eyes caught in the icy, piercing blue gaze that _narrowed_ the longer Malcolm lingered. He pressed a kiss to Cole’s forehead. “I’ll write you as soon as my work is finished. Be safe, and remember to always call if you ever need anything.” 

“Y-yeah,” a thin worry line formed between Cole’s brows, and behind him blue eyes widened, “of course.”

Before Cole could _voice_ the question that already stained his words, Malcolm squeezed his shoulder in departure. 

“You two have a great holiday,” he smiled before Appearing in Headmistress McGonagall’s office. 

The Headmistress, to her credit, merely raised an eyebrow before gesturing for Malcolm to sit. 

“Mr. Crowe, typically people knock out of politeness unless the matter is urgent. I do _hope_ it’s urgent.” 

Malcolm remained standing, make sure to keep his knees loose and not locked. He took his time to gather his thoughts, to go through the thorough mental history he had of magic related crimes and murders in the United States. 

“How well do you know Kevin McCallister and the… nature of why he’s here?” 

Usually, when Malcolm visited the Headmistress, it was scheduled and about Cole Sear’s necromancy studies. He rarely acknowledged the other students and never strayed off topic. Her eyes widened and with a wave of her hand, all the movement in the office stilled. 

“Mr. McCallister’s family made a sizeable donation to the school. His enrollment was for the purpose of him experiencing the world. That was his father’s words, I believe. As far for McCallister’s character, he is… a typical excitable young man. Oddly bad at Potions.” Her eyes were steely, which usually put Malcolm at ease to know such a woman was looking after his ward… but he wasn’t sure how to feel when she looked into him. “He is very close with Cole. Do you have any reasons to believe that he has sinister intention?” 

Outside, the children were playing, having snowball fights, yet inside McGonagall’s office was silent. Malcolm ran his knuckles over his lips. It was in his nature to be paranoid and protective. He had Cole go to Hogwarts because he trusted that McGonagall would not turn the boy into a twisted experiment in a way he couldn’t trust his own peers. 

He was familiar with that paranoia, that he’d misplaced his trust and he’d return to Hogwarts to find Cole a shell of himself, a brilliant young mind reduced to a tool of the dead. 

This new worry was raw and reactive. 

“The McCallister name is familiar to me. I personally didn’t work on the case, but I remember it from a colleague. The murders of two no-maj thieves in Chicago. The case was settled as self-defense from a child, though they, apparently, used non-magic means to kill them.” He grimaced. “The child’s name wasn’t included in the report. If it _was_ Kevin, he would have been eight years old.” 

The Headmistress waved her hand, the office flooding with warmth and motion. 

“I find it hard to believe that parents would send a child overseas years after such a traumatic experience.” The doors opened behind him. “I have no reason to believe that he means to harm anyone, especially Cole. But,” she sighed, “I’ll be sure to keep an eye out for anything suspicious.” 

Malcolm bowed his head. 

“Thank you.” 

With a quick turn on his heel, he disappeared from the Headmistress’s office and was back in the Unspeakable United States Headquarters.

He trusted Cole. The kid was astute, cautious, and knew the kind of things that festered in dark corners. He knew the dead better than most. 

_I just hope you know darkness grows in the living as well._ Malcolm kept his posture straight and his eyes forward, his next orders quickly pressed into his hand in a crisp manila folder. _Be careful in Chicago, Cole._

::::

Cole’s heart pounded as expensive perfume filled his nose. 

“Oh my gosh, you’re so _cute,_ I’ve heard so much about you. I can’t believe— I mean, I’m so happy Kevin brought home a friend!” 

“Mom,” Kevin whined, “you’re squeezin’ all the air out of him.” 

“Kevin,” Mrs. McCallister pulled back with a shake of her head, “honestly.” Her eyes were the same shade of blue as Kevin’s, so light they were like ice but the person wielding them was so warm. “Cole, welcome to our home, we’re so happy to have you.” 

“Thank you for having me, ma’am,” Cole managed as his ears burned. 

Kevin grabbed Cole’s arm and pulled. 

“Come on, I’ll show you my room before mom decides to adopt you.” The McCallister house was in full holiday swing, according to Kevin. There were aunts, uncles, and a ton of cousins that Kevin introduced with a bored expression that melted the moment he’d glance at Cole. “Don’t worry, no one is gonna be mad if you can’t remember names. It’s a lot.” 

Cole straightened. 

“I’ll do my best.” 

Kevin’s room was a loft on the third floor of the house and when he opened the door at the top of the ladder, Cole felt at home. Enchantments had been placed all around the McCallister house, too many for Cole to count, but stepping into Kevin’s room felt like returning home. There was a stillness to it and it was filled with no-Maj toys and devices. 

Cole always felt like he was gawking when he was at Hogwarts, one incredible charm after another just flung about the school’s walls carelessly. 

Here, with the noise shut out from the rest of the house… it was closest feeling of _home_ that Cole had experienced in a long time. While nothing would compare to his mother’s house in Philadelphia, it was a close second. 

Even with the dead men standing at the base of the ladder, shouting upset words up at them. If Cole looked at Kevin, their voices softened. 

“— put your stuff anywhere, and I hope the bed is big enough, if not I can ask mom—” 

“This is great.” Cole sat on the bed and frowned when he saw Kevin wringing his hands, still lingering by the ladder. “What’s wrong?” 

Kevin, for the first time since Cole met him, looked… frightened. His eyes were glassy and when he glanced away from Cole it stung like a slap. Kevin, who mouthed off to upperclassmen without batting an eye, shuddered. Cole couldn’t help but be flung back to his time at Catholic school, the days before Malcolm had found him and provided an answer for all the things he was seeing. 

Eyes following him from classroom to classroom, the living and the dead gawking. 

_Get outta here. Don’t sit by me. Gross. Go away._

_**Freak.** _

Was this it? Had it finally happened? His own House tolerated him because he helped them out with Charms and Ancient Studies. He felt more at home in the Slytherin Common Room than his own. He thought… that… he’d started to make friends, his first being Kevin. He’d hope that it didn’t have an expiration date, that Kevin really liked him even if he was a chubby, shy, stuttering coward. 

“I have to tell you something,” Kevin forced out of his lips as tears rolled down his cheeks. “I didn’t… I haven’t told anyone. But you’re,” Kevin sucked in a breath, “you’re my best friend, Cole. I don’t want you to be scared of me.” 

Cole’s throat tightened and Kevin’s shivering shoulders kept him frozen on the bed. 

::::

_He knows._

Two words haunted every waking hour ever since Cole’s guardian came to visit. Malcolm Crowe, some big shot in the American Magic Government. When he looked at Kevin, when Kevin said his full name… 

_He saw right through me._

Even after Cole stepped through the Floo Network with him, even as Coles’ mouth dropped in awe at the size and space of Kevin’s house, at his huge family, at the unending noise that filled the walls— Kevin worried. He worried that Cole already knew. He worried that Malcolm was going to tell him, that Cole was going to get the same look his parents did… that Kevin would lose his best friend. 

All he ever wanted was to be comfortable. 

Fuzzy blankets, macaroni and cheese, ice cream, comfy slippers… and peace and quiet. That’s all Kevin had wanted. And one Christmas, when he was eight, he finally _got it._ Time alone, to do whatever he wanted. No one pinching, poking, pulling, or teasing. He thought it was a Christmas miracle. In actuality, his parents just… forgot. 

No spells. No curses or hexes. 

They just… forgot, right before their big vacation, and had dismantled all the wards on the house. When two thieves came across it, they could see the magnificent McCallister house in its actuality, pristine, elegant, and expensive. 

_Self defense_ was what the police had called it. _You’re lucky to be alive, kid,_ one of them had said. 

Luck had nothing to do with it. Cole was too young for a wand. He hadn’t even practiced a spell before, but he _listened_ for things. That was the best he had ever managed to describe it. Listening had him plucking Christmas ornaments off the tree, holding a flame under the doorknob, and securing a rope from his room to the treehouse. He listened, and he listened, until the thieves fell into all the little things he laid out for them. 

They were dead within twenty minutes. 

Kevin knew that he was supposed to feel bad, that he was supposed to be traumatized. He wasn’t, and he wasn’t good enough at faking it, which is why his mother sent him away. 

His lungs ached by the time he was done. It hurt, telling Cole, it hurt worse than anything Kevin ever had to do… but at least this way he was making the first move. It wasn’t Malcolm or McGonagall taking Cole away from him. 

Cole was very still. _If I’m going to lose you, I’d rather it happen like this,_ Kevin thought, his heart in his throat. Kevin wiped his face with his sleeve. 

“I can sleep downstairs—” 

“Harry and Marv, right?” Kevin froze. Cole stood up, and even though the attic was the hottest part of the house, his breath fogged out in front of him. “That was their names, right?” Cole, who was scared of the dark and would flinch when Sylvia shouted his name across the dining hall, gently reached for Kevin’s hand. “I have a secret too.” 

::::

Fred Weasley wasn’t sure what he expected in terms of his death. He certainly hadn’t imagined dying young, certainly not in a war against Voldemort, but he didn’t regret the fight. Heaven with the Pearly Gates and all that rubbish didn’t really fit Fred’s idea of fun. Coming to back at Hogwarts… was familiar. Comfortable, even if no one could see him. 

Still, he could never have predicted that he’d be giving a Slytherin and a Hufflepuff waltzing lessons in an empty classroom. 

_“His feet are all wrong, he’ll be stepping on your toes all night.”_

“Move your feet,” Cole nudged Kevin’s foot until it was in the position Fred mimicked. “Perfect.” 

Kevin McCallister didn’t slick back his hair like Malfoy, but the color was similar, if not a little more golden than platinum. It put Fred on edge, the strangeness of seeing an angular blonde Slytherin smile without malice at a squishy Hufflepuff. Kevin was still too stiff, and Fred wondered if Cole noticed the red staining Kevin’s ears. 

“I don’t know how I feel about taking dancing advice from a dead guy, Cole.” 

_“Oi,”_ Fred circled them, aware that Cole’s body language would clue Kevin in as to where he was, _“fuck you very much.”_

“I like that even though I can’t see him I can tell he’s pissed off,” Kevin relaxed with a smirk, “you blush when he gets angry.” 

Cole’s flush got much worse. Fred snorted. 

_“Does he know that’s not why you’re blushing?”_

“Okay,” Cole cleared his throat, ignoring both Kevin and Fred’s laughter. “If you’re serious about this, let’s try again.” 

Waltzing was a stuffy Hogwarts tradition, and Summer Balls weren’t the norm, but ever since the end of the War, any excuse to cultivate levity was encouraged. Fred enjoyed the way Hogwarts had changed, in subtle ways, but… it was an improvement. 

Cole had come a long way from the frightened Third Year that Fred had witnessed getting punched in the corridor. He was still bullied by that particular Ravenclaw, but he walked with more assurance, hung out with his Housemates more but wasn’t afraid to wheedle his way into the Slytherin Common Room. 

_Bloody baffling,_ Fred thought, _not bad but definitely baffling._

Once a week, Cole would meet Kevin in the Astronomy tower during off hours and Fred would do his best to remember the different dances McGonagall had gone over with them back during the Yule Ball. 

It was nice, to be seen and heard, even if it was by a shy Hufflepuff who was scared his own shadow. 

Scaredy-cat or not, Fred liked him, so he did his best to help the kid out. 

_“Feel the music, once you stop counting out loud it will come naturally. If you miss a step, it’s not that bad.”_

Little suggestions, a straightened back, a tighter grip on a hip, until they stopped being two stiff bodies and became… well…

Kevin’s breath came easier and he took the lead, his smile wide as he drew closer. 

“Last year we didn’t get to dance.” 

Cole missed the next step, but Kevin caught him, easing them into a turn. 

“I know.” Cole stopped looking at his feet, meeting Kevin’s gaze without missing a step. This time, it was Kevin who faltered and Cole steadied him. “I didn’t know you wanted to do dance with me.” 

_“I keep telling you, he’s not asking you as a friend.”_

Fred kept time with a slow snap of his fingers, though eventually stopped. They kept time, talking about classes, summer plans, until the record stopped. Fred watched with a melancholic amusement as the pair stopped, their hands dropping from shoulders and hips until they were fully separated. 

Kevin cleared his throat. 

“We’ll keep practicin’ and blow them all away.” 

Cole shook his head. 

“Yeah right.” 

Cole gathered his bags, meeting Fred’s bemused grin. 

“Thanks, Fred.” 

Kevin held the door open for Cole, and he offered a bow in Fred’s general direction. 

“Pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Weasley.” 

_Crazy kids,_ Fred snorted as the door shut behind them. 

::::

Fifth year was more than just dancing lessons at the Astronomy tower. Kevin was in Advanced Arithmancy and he was on track to pursuing curse-breaking as a career. Professor Vector marked him as her star pupil, and though she was frustrated that half the time Kevin couldn’t show his work, he proved himself, enough that she was going to construct more classes to help him grow. 

“I don’t know how you can make sense of that stuff,” Sol peeked at Kevin’s notes at the dinner table. “It just makes me go cross-eyed.” 

Kevin leaned his elbow on the table, dropping his head onto his hand, staring at the runes Vector had him practicing. 

“It’s all about listening,” Kevin shrugged, “I have a knack for it.” 

It turned out that’s what Kevin had been _listening_ to that fateful night when he was eight. Cole had suggested it, when his hand was so cold in his, in Kevin’s room and whispering their secrets to each other. _That sounds like Arithmancy to me._ Cole always had a way of taking a look at something and just _knowing_ the best step.

Listening for patterns, routines, and just… leaning to manipulate the flow, it was what Kevin had been doing for as long as he could remember. 

He glanced across the way at Gordon Willerby. 

Everyone had a predictable pattern, a place in the universe, something that Kevin easily saw, tasted, and could reach out and grab and yank between his fingers. Well, everyone _except—_

“Hey,” Cole Sear sat down on stool on Kevin’s right side. His cheeks were flushed and his hands gripped his bag tight. “What are you doing tonight?” 

“Nothing. I mean, I wasn’t planning on anything other than sleeping.” He let his pencil fall from his fingers, turning to face Cole. “What’s up?” 

Along with Arithmancy bringing clarity to his own magic tendencies, age brought another illumination. He wanted Cole. The variances changed from day to day, from sweet to savage, from protective to greedy, but the depth only grew. _Bloody shameless,_ Sol would giggle when he’d catch Kevin staring. 

He felt the strings holding everyone in the universe, he felt the pull and push from different people in his orbit, and yet something about Cole kept him hidden. 

The mystery was as terrifying as it was seductive. 

“I wanted to run something by you. Tonight. In the Prefect’s bathroom. Obviously, there’s no pressure or anything. Only if you want to.” 

His blush worsened, and Kevin began to sweat, his own cheeks reddening. 

“Of course I want to. I mean, yes. I’ll meet you there. Eleven?” 

Cole let out a rush of air like he’d been expecting rejection. 

“Eleven is perfect. See you then.” He paused and somehow his blush worsened. “And, um, don’t get caught. Obviously.”

Cole hurried off, his face bright red. Kevin blinked and finally let go of the breath he’d been holding. Sol hummed. 

“Bloody hell, who knew the skittish Hufflepuff had it in him.” 

Kevin swatted Sol’s arm. 

“Shut up. He’s brave when it counts.” Kevin covered his face with his hands. “Obviously. Christ. That just happened?” 

Sol snickered.

“That just happened. By the way, you’re red as a tomato.”

Kevin flipped off Sol but couldn’t fight the smile growing on his face. He floated back to the Slytherin Common Rooms, and everything felt soft around the edges as he put on his best shirt and tie, ignoring Sol’s _they’re just going to get rumpled._ He fixed his hair, begged to use one of the girl’s clear nail polish for added shine, and left to the whistles of his Housemates. 

He snuck past the Head Boys and Head Girls patrols with ease. He had been planning on asking Cole out at the Summer Formal, since apparently him asking him as a date last year hadn’t been enough of a hint. 

Kevin had it planned out in his head, a first dance, a kiss on the cheek, with overwhelming affection finally being on display. Of course, the fantasy was weighed down with worry. The potential loss often silenced Kevin. Anxiety tangled in his tongue when Cole’s nose would accidentally brush against his during their dancing lessons, or when they’d linger outside of the other’s Common Room entrance, neither wanting to say goodbye. 

He turned the corner to see Cole tugging on his sweater. He brightened the moment he saw Kevin, his shoulders falling slack and his teeth peeking out from behind his lips. 

“Thanks for coming.” 

Cole whispered the password he had no business of knowing and they stepped inside. Kevin had no interest in being a Prefect or a Head Boy, and so he never set foot in the exclusive bathrooms. The floor was cracked white marble, pillars leading to a massive sunken pool where thick mist curled above the water. 

“Wow,” Kevin whistled, waggling his eyebrows. “If I had access to this bath, I’d never leave.” 

Cole set down his bags and smoothed his hands down his sweater like he did whenever he was nervous. 

“It’s fancy. And, um,” Cole ducked his head, _“open.”_

Kevin’s heart pounded in his chest. He had no idea what Cole wanted him to do, and it didn’t help that, for Cole, Kevin was down for anything. Sweet kisses and cuddles? Absolutely. Fumbling and groping through clothes? Check. Sweaty sex in the Prefects bathroom that would end with Kevin walking into the Slytherin Common Room with a neck dotted with hickies? _Yes, please._

Kevin wanted _a lot_ of things, even if he had no experience with them. He knew, in his heart, that he wanted them, with Cole above all else. 

Cole cleared his throat just as Kevin started unbuttoning his shirt. 

“So, um, I don’t really know how to, er, say it so I’m just gonna do my best and,” Cole met Kevin’s gaze, “there’s no pressure or anything. Okay? You can tell me to stop or just… leave and I will, okay?” 

Kevin nodded, feeling greedy, eager, and _hungry._

“Of course, Cole.” 

He expected a confession, maybe a frantic kiss if he was lucky. Instead, Cole dropped to his knees to open his bag and pull out brushes, ink, parchment, and old tomes. 

“I technically can’t place any runes on myself, Malcolm and Headmistress McGonagall forbade it, but they never said me about putting them on other people. I mean, obviously that was implied but,” he glanced up at Kevin with a toothy grin, “they never outright said anything. So, um, I was wondering if you wanted a ward that would protect you from spirits.” 

Kevin knelt down with Cole, the thick fog swirling around his knees. 

“Yeah?” 

Cole showed Kevin a particular rune, with a simple, yet elegant design that was about the size of Kevin’s palm. 

“Even the most malevolent spirit would not be able to cause you direct harm.” Cole’s smile softened. “Even if they hated you, they would never be able to touch you.” 

Kevin could hardly breathe, his heart was so full, his limbs were numb. He grinned so wide his face hurt and he hugged Cole tight. 

“You’re the best, you know that?” He pulled back, enough to share the same breath as Cole. “You sure you’re not a Slytherin?” 

Cole laughed. 

“I’m sure.” Cole tongue snuck out, to wet his lips and it took all the will in Kevin’s body to not follow the path, to kiss him and steal his breath, to show him what it was like living endlessly breathless. “It’s intimate. It’s not the kind of magic done with wands and it would… link you to me. So it would always be active, as long as I’m still alive.” Cole breath shuddered out of him, but the more he spoke about it, the brighter his eyes got it. “It’s old magic, it feels, _Kevin,_ it feels so strange but… if you don’t want it, that’s okay—”

“I want you.” Kevin cleared his throat. “I want you to do it.” 

Even if Kevin had been nervous, which he wasn’t, seeing Cole’s grin would have washed all worries away. 

::::

Archaic magic was somehow broader and yet more intricate in its rituals. The spells Cole learned during the day were all about wand movement and pronunciation. The magic Cole learned at night were about the ritual, the heart and soul behind every movement and touch. Necromancy was all about intimacy, about the comfort of walking the line between living and dead without care. 

Cole stripped off his sweater and folded it the floor and did his best to ignore Kevin stepping out of his underwear. He heard the water displace and Kevin’s slight intake of breath at the heat. 

“Aren’t you worried about your clothes?” Kevin turned in the water, up to his waist. “You should take them off so they don’t get wet.” 

“The water is enchanted. It get rid of any impurities and will dry you the moment you step out.” Cole turned, took off his shoes and socks and pushed his books and scrolls to the edge of the water. “You’re the only one who has to be naked for this.” 

Kevin smirked. 

“Lucky me.”

_More like lucky me,_ Cole thought as he stepped into the water. The water soaked through his pants and he rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt, carefully securing them above his elbow so they wouldn’t get in his way. Kevin smiled, his lips red and wet, and Cole, not for the first time in his life, thought Kevin would be the death of him. Cole swallowed, his throat clicking loud as he stepped through the water. 

“Where do you want it?” Kevin blinked, the warm water bringing a pink flush to his cheeks. Cole focused on arranging his brushes and the ink on the side of the pool. “It should be somewhere that’s not easily exposed. So no one can grab it or anything like that.” 

Kevin twisted his arm and pointed to the soft skin on his inner arm, just above his elbow. 

“How about here?”

Cole nodded. 

“That’s perfect.” Kevin sat on the steps that dipped beneath the water. The water came up to his shoulders. Cole pushed his hair away from his face. “I don’t know what this will feel like, so if it hurts, let me know and I’ll stop.” 

He held the brush with a steady hand. He stood between Kevin’s legs, his fingers gently keeping Kevin’s arm turned out and still. The moment the brush touched Kevin’s skin, black bloomed on his skin and Kevin sucked in a breath. Cole’s eyes darted up and Kevin swallowed. 

“It doesn’t hurt. It’s just,” Kevin bit his lip, “it’s strange. I can feel you,” his breath shuddered and Cole tightened his grip on Kevin’s arm when his best friend’s head tilted back, “inside me.” 

“Okay,” Cole’s voice sounded paper-thin to his own ears as he couldn’t help but stare at Kevin’s bare chest, at the water that dripped down his neck and down his chest, his nipples lifting from beneath the water with every inhale. “I’ll go as quick as I can.” 

The rune itself was simple, but working around Kevin constantly breathless and writhing despite Cole’s grasp on his arm was _not simple._ God, Cole was hard and he just hoped Kevin wouldn’t notice as he lifted the brush from his skin. He pressed his palm against the mark, whispering “I’m sorry,” and “you’re okay,” when Kevin free hand grabbed Cole’s shoulder and his legs splashed wildly 

After twenty seconds, Cole let go and let the water wash over the mark. 

Kevin fingers tightened on Cole’s sleeve hard enough to bruise for a few seconds before his entire body went slack, making Cole stumble to keep his head above water. 

“Are you okay?” Cole brushed Kevin’s hair away from his face, one hand in the middle of Kevin’s back keeping him above the water while the other gently tapped on Kevin’s cheeks. He blinked lazily, a syrupy smile spreading across his face.

“That felt… so good.”

Cole sighed, his shoulders trembling. 

“Thank God.” 

His knees gave out with relief and Kevin laughed as water sloshed over the sides. 

::::

Gordon Willerby was having the worst month of his life. 

He wasn’t sure when it started. The more he thought about it, the more the individual threads started fraying, frizzing out around the ends until his girlfriend rolled her eyes at the second to last Ravenclaw game. 

“You haven’t been _cursed,_ Gordon. That’s ridiculous.” 

Genevieve crossed her arms across her chest, her eyes up on the Slytherin Chasers being intercepted by one of the Ravenclaw players. He gave a half-hearted cheer before sitting back down, leaning in close and hoping his voice was low enough. 

“I’m not joking. Someone has _put_ something on me and it’s been compounding for weeks.” Genevieve shot him an unimpressed look. “Remember when I was supposed to meet you at Hogsmeade last month? And I was late because—” 

“All your socks were worn out and for _some reason,_ a simple mending charm wasn’t enough.” 

“Hey, first off, the mending charm _obliterated them,_ and I did show up _with snow in my bloody boots!”_ Genevieve snorted. Gordon pressed his palms against his eyes, hard enough until white spots appeared behind his eyelids. “Baby, I think that was start. Or maybe, maybe it started before then but I just can’t think of what it was because it was so small. But it’s been getting _worse.”_

It wasn’t just his socks. It was a wonky Charm that had been performed badly by a first year that had arched out of the classroom just as Gordon was passing by and had knocked the wind out of him until he’d cried on the steps, struggling to breathe. It was getting a fierce stomach bug during dinner and not managing to make it to the bathrooms in time before he expelled every meal he’d had that day across the walls, the portraits shrieking in disgust. It was a slight wand malfunction that burned his entire arm in Potions. Sometimes he woke up to the memory of the smell of bubbling and sizzling flesh.

Gordon went from the most respected Ravenclaw that wasn’t the Head Boy or Girl to a fucking laughingstock. 

Over the month he felt like he’d aged a decade, constantly jumping at every loud noise. He was _cursed._

“Gordon,” Genevieve sent him a pitying look that he wanted to claw off her face, “some people just get a string of bad luck. There’s nothing supernatural about it.” 

Gordon shook his head, not cheering when Ravenclaw scored another goal. 

“You’re wrong. This is being _purposefully_ done to me. It’s probably _Sear,_ that snivelling—” 

Genevieve turned, her eyes wide. 

“You’re the only person who has a problem with him. People are happy to ignore him or, you know, converse with him like an actual person.” She slid away from him, and Gordon’s stomach twisted. “It’s… Gordon, it’s _weird,_ okay? You’re aggression with him.” 

She wasn’t looking at him and Gordon thought, hysteric, _this can’t be bloody happening._

“Genny, I’m not aggressive,” her eyes met his and he flinched. “I’m _not,”_ he insisted even as heat prickled along the back of his neck like it did every time he lied. “You don’t think it’s fucking weird? That he’s all over that snake?” 

“Kevin?” Genevieve shrugged. She looked across the Quidditch field, to where the pair in question was. Gordon could barely make out their features, but there was no mistaking the smude of gold and green, always seen together. “I think they’re sweet.” 

_“Sweet?”_ Gordon’s stomach roiled. “No. It’s so gross.” 

“Don’t be a homophone.” She pushed further away from him, her lips pressed into a thin line. “You know what, Gordon, I think you need to work some internal things out, okay? Because there’s nothing _wrong_ with them no matter how much you insist there is.” 

“I’m not a homophobe,” he spat as a rash raked down his spine, “Genny—” 

He grabbed her hand and she yanked it back. _Bloody hell,_ he remembered thinking, _she’s going to break up with me._ He opened his mouth to retort, something biting, witty, and irrefutable so she’d have to admit just how _foolish_ she was being— when a Bludger slammed into his teeth. 

… _believe me now,_ Gordon tried to say between animalistic shrieks as this tongue split in several places, his gums battered and torn to shreds, his screams trying to wrap around the words _please don’t leave me, Genny,_ but he couldn’t focus because _he could feel his own teeth sliding down his fucking throat—_

He woke up in the infirmary. 

Madame Pomfrey smiled at him, warm and sweet. Gordon was sure that her perfume, a faint lavender hint, would put any Hogwarts student at ease. She gently tucked the sheets up to his chin. 

“Easy now. I’ve stitched you back up, but you’re going to stay the next few days in here, to make sure we haven’t missed anything, okay?” Gordon nodded, not trusting himself to speak. If he ran his tongue around his mouth he could feel his teeth… but the ghostly sensation of them pinching the back of his throat was visceral. She patted his cheek. “Get some rest, Mr. Willerby.” 

She drew the curtains around his bed, shielding him from the outside before she left. Gordon breathed deep, dried tears itching the corners of his eyes. He wondered if Genevieve would visit him, or if it was still over. Once he could speak, he’d go straight to McGonagall, he’d call his dad if he had to. It wasn’t _just bad luck,_ he didn’t care if all the curses he’d researched were more powerful, direct. 

The curtains rustled, as if moved by a breeze. 

Gordon went still, his eyes wide as the candlelight flickered. 

Between breaths, Kevin McCallister appeared, wand in hand still dressed in his robes despite the late hour. He held his finger to his lips and winked. He walked the perimeter of the bed, taking care to not to disturb the curtains as he muttered under his breath. A strange, pillowy sensation pressed against Gordon’s ears and he realized that Kevin had cast a Silencing charm. 

“I hate being quiet, don’t you? It always seems like sound gets _amplified_ the moment you want to sneak around.” Kevin pulled up a chair and rested his elbows on the mattress. “I gotta say, Gordon, you don’t look so good.” Gordon tried to scream, to get to his wand but he just jerked in place, his tongue catching on the corner of his mouth. “I mean, you _look_ fine, but you’re not fine, you know?” 

Kevin leaned back in his chair, blowing a long breath out. He pulled a book out of his back and opened it, revealing the pages. It was a sketchbook and bold paint covered the page, geometric shapes in different colors overlapping. _Very modern,_ was what Genieve would have said. All Gordon wanted to do was knock it out of Kevin’s hands as he flipped through from one image to another, each one different, broad, and somehow disturbing. 

“Do you know a lot about the brain, Gordon?” Gordon wheezed angrily, wondering if Pomphrey had numbed him with a potion. “Yeah, didn’t think so. Wizardry is great and everything, but some of the lessons here are seriously lacking. The brain, for instance, takes time to adjust to trauma. Even though you’re totally fine right now, all healed, your brain is struggling to catch up.” Kevin flipped page after page, shaking his head with a smile. “You can still feel it,” blue eyes lifted and the sight of them pinned Gordon to the bed, “can’t you?”

Gordon cleared his throat and he knew that his teeth were no longer slipping down his esophagus, but he still _felt them._ He didn’t feel the pain of the bludger caving in his jaw, but he still had to run his tongue over his teeth, constantly checking to make sure they were still there. 

“No-Maj people deal with pain all the time. They heal at the rate the brain can comprehend, but we just magic it away and sometimes, when it’s injury after injury, the brain just can’t catch up.” 

Gordon struggled to sit up. Kevin turned the page and ran his fingers along the squares overlapped by circles, in bold blue, yellow, and white. The picture was different than the others. Scratch marks were pressed into the shapes, not painted, but pressed. 

With fingernails, the notion came to Gordon like a blow to the back of the head. Watching Kevin trace them with practiced nonchalance was off-putting enough to finally get a word out. 

“Please,” Gordon barely managed, saliva slipping down his chin, “Pluh,” he hiccuped, “pluh—”

“You ever hear of feng-shui, Gordon?” Gordon shook his head. “It’s about bringing harmony to a space with particular placement and color. One disturbance and the whole harmony is thrown into disarray.” He pressed his finger against one of the scratches. “Things will just keep happening until the disturbance is fixed or gotten rid of.” 

Kevin ran his finger over one scratch, and the indentation disappeared. The candlelight flickered, and Gordon felt a little better. He erased another, and the ache in his arm eased. 

Gordon was a Seventh Year. He shouldn’t be _scared_ of a fucking Fifth Year, especially some Slytherin. _But there’s a reason you never went after him,_ a traitorous inner whisper reminded him. Kevin stopped removing the indentations. There were at least twenty left. Maybe more. 

“What,” Gordon heaved in a breath, unable to look away from the design, “do you want?” 

Kevin closed his book and leaned in close, his breath washing over Gordon’s face. No matter how hard Gordon pushed back against the pillow, he couldn’t get away.

“I want you to leave Cole Sear the fuck alone for the rest of your life.” Kevin’s lips pulled back in a mockery of a smile. “I think if you do that, your life will return back to its regular harmony. What do you say?” 

He held out his hand as if Gordon had a choice. 

::::

The only time Houses _had_ to sit at their designated tables were on the very first and last days of school, and every time it seemed to last for an eternity. 

“Kevin,” Sol grabbed Kevin’s knee to stop it from bouncing. “They’re almost done, all right? Then we can go.” 

“I swear it gets longer every year.” 

Kevin groaned and shot a glance over to Cole, who was _two whole tables over._ Cole met his eyes easily and smiled, small and sweet. Kevin was going to make a petition. Houses were bullshit anyway. Sol snorted and shook his head, his shaggy hair falling in front of his face before he pushed it back. 

“I’m surprised you two didn’t get married over your road trip. Those pictures were insane, by the way. I can’t believe you two really got all the way up to Canada.” Sol leaned against Kevin. “But it must have been romantic, going on a trip right after you start dating.” Kevin slouched in his seat. Sol turned to him. “Kevin.” Kevin avoided his friend’s pointed gaze. _“Kevin,_ you said—” 

“I know what I said,” Kevin hissed, aware that his Housemates were snickering at him, some shushing him so he didn’t interrupt the ceremony. “It’s not easy to just,” Kevin buried his head in his hands, “come clean about that kind of thing. But this year. This year for sure.” 

“It’ll have to be this year, Kevin, it’s the last one.” Sol prodded his shoulder. “If it helps, the entire school thinks you two are going out already.” 

He had a plan. Well, he had a second plan, which came about after his _first_ plan of asking Cole out that summer had failed and he’d spent three weeks on the road in blissful agony. This plan, he’d do it right away, like ripping off a band-aid. He’d ask Cole to Hogsmeade, they go to his favorite tea shop, and as Kevin walked him home he’d ask if Cole wanted to do it again, but as a date. 

It was the perfect plan. All Kevin had to do was _do it._

The moment the food appeared on the table, Kevin was out of his seat. Sol scrambled to grab a few rolls with a _slow down, Kevin._ Cole pushed open the doors as Kevin hugged him, making him stumble backwards until he hit the wall. Where other patterns and routines in people were boring, Kevin never reached that with Cole. His smell was the same, the sound of his breath leaving his lungs was the same, and the feather-light fingers at the small of his back was the same… and every piece was beautiful. 

Cole pulled back and waved sheepishly at Sol. 

“Hi, Sol. I got you some souvenirs.” 

Kevin couldn’t help but think back to their first year, how nervous they’d been on the train, how excited he’d been to find another American, and then dismayed that they were sorted into different Houses. Now, watching more Slytherin upperclassman emerge and stop by to say hello, to catch up, to listen to Cole’s excited detailing of their road trip accompanied with pictures… 

Cole laughed at something in the picture, holding it out to a Third Year as Sol gave Cole a half-hug, thanking him for the assortment of treats and trinkets he’d collected. Instead of heading in the Common Room, the Slytherins hung out in the outside hall. Cole eventually joined Kevin, leaning against the wall with his bag by his feet. 

“I thought you’d be sick of me,” Cole nudged Kevin with a small smile, “after three weeks in a car.” 

“Psh, no. Those were the best three weeks of my life.” 

“Don’t say that,” and before Kevin could immediately _insist_ on it, Cole’s whisper had the words dying on his tongue, “you have a whole life ahead of you. We’ll have other weeks just like that, I’m sure.” 

_We._

A few groups had started to go into the common room as more folks started to feel the late hour. People gave the photos back to Cole, and the one on the top of the pile was a polaroid of Kevin in his pajamas, a thermos in his hand and his hair mussed up from sleeping in a car. It was during the last leg of their trip, just two days from home. 

“Want to go to Hogsmeade this weekend?” 

Cole slung his bag over his shoulder. 

“Yeah, sure.” 

“Great!” Kevin grinned and he fixed Cole’s collar where his bag strap had rumpled it. “I’ll pick you up at three on Saturday, all right?” 

Kevin wished he could have blamed the hour, low blood sugar, or a misfired Charm, but it was no one’s fault but his own when he let himself get caught in Cole’s smile. He leaned forward and kissed him, a small gesture of affection that lasted less than a second. 

He pulled back, turning to half-nudge half-shove Sol toward the Common Room entrance, but the look on Sol’s face stopped him. Then it hit him like a slap in the face. 

He whirled around. Cole was flushed and he clutched his bag like a lifeline. 

“I didn’t mean to do that.” Kevin slapped his hand to his face. “I mean, I _did_ mean to do that, but it was going to happen this weekend or, I was going to ask you _out_ this weekend like on a _date,_ I wasn’t just going to um, kiss you.” He dragged his hand off his face. “Cole, I’m sorry—”

Soft lips stopped the embarrassing deluge of words. Right as Kevin realized _holy shit Cole Sear is kissing me,_ Cole pulled back. 

“It’s okay. Um,” Cole’s grip on his bag tightened for a moment before he grinned, “Saturday. Cool.” 

“Very,” Kevin grinned, leaning on the wall in case his knees gave out, “ _very_ cool.” 

His Housemates were kind, and waited to contain their screaming until Kevin was behind Common Room doors. 

::::

Cole Apparated back into the Main Hall at midnight. Malcolm was behind him, leaving him with a squeeze to the shoulder before he strode to the Headmistress. She nodded at Cole, and he made his way out of the double doors. 

He knew it was stupid to be disappointed that Kevin wasn’t waiting there. It was after curfew, and obviously just because two people were dating didn’t mean that rules didn’t apply… but a small part of Cole had been hoping to see him in the Great Hall, tired but smiling. _That’s what you get for being a big sap,_ Cole sighed, rubbing the heel of his palm over his eyes. He was lucky the weekend started, he could at least sleep in—

Something grabbed his shoulders and spun him him around. The Invisibility Charm dropped seconds before Kevin hugged Cole. Familiar lips pressed against his cheek. 

“I missed you.” 

Cole immediately felt lighter despite the late hour. 

“I was only gone for three days.”

“Three _long_ days. It was awful. I got two detentions and I _might_ have sabotaged the Ravenclaw Common Room entrance.” Kevin kissed his cheek. “But don’t tell anyone.” He pulled back, a tiny line forming between his brows. “Are you alright?” Cole tried to immediately say that _yes_ of course he was all right, but his throat was too tight. He shook his head. Kevin blew out a long breath. “Let’s go.” 

After three days of hopping around the world to various dark corridors and secret rooms, it was nice to be in the familiar and homey Slytherin Common Room before walking down to the upperclassmen suites. Upperclassman had a small canopies that, when opened, revealed a room with a King sized bed and personal bathroom. 

Cole let his coat fall to the floor before he splashed water onto his face. When he turned Kevin was sitting on the bed, his legs kicking aimlessly off the bed, a poor attempt at looking relaxed when his back was so tense. 

Cole wasn’t going to cry, he _wasn’t._

“Sorry,” he kissed Kevin before he could be chided for saying _sorry,_ “I missed you too.” 

He eased into Kevin, a gentle swipe of his tongue over Kevin’s lips, barely needing to wait for Kevin to open his mouth, pulling Cole closer. Always pulling him closer. Cole knew he should talk, should explain why for three days he felt as though his body was growing more and more numb. 

Kevin’s fingers brought sensation back to his body and Cole felt gluttonous and greedy. He didn’t pull back like he usually did. He leaned into Kevin’s breath on his neck, he pulled on Kevin’s shirt. Kevin laughed when his arms got caught in the sleeve and Cole smiled, both of their hands fumbling to toss the shirt on the floor. Kevin’s blonde hair was mussed and his crooked grin was… 

Worth three terrible days. 

“Cole,” Kevin whined his name, like _Cole_ was the good looking one, like _Cole_ was someone he couldn’t stop thinking about. The way his hands shook and his pupils dilated… Cole was starting to believe he hadn’t fallen into a terrible and wonderful dream. “We don’t have to,” his entire body shuddered when Cole’s palm pressed against his erection, _“oh God,_ we don’t have to do a-anything.” 

They hadn’t done anything more than make out for months. And while there was a selfish part of Cole that enjoyed long kisses between classes, long enough that their classmates would whistle and laugh, _“he’s not going to war, McCallister,”_ Cole… wanted to be brave. 

“I know.” Kevin had been patient, _so patient_ and never pushed when Cole would pull away or get too embarrassed to keep going. Cole knew that… without risk no progress would be made. “I want to,” Cole leaned back in for another kiss, one that Kevin gave eagerly, moaning into Cole’s mouth. “I know you want me, I’m not afraid of you… not wanting me because—”

“Not possible.” Kevin’s smile was sharp and dark against Cole’s mouth. He wormed his fingers into Cole’s pants, tearing a seam in the process. “I’ve been jerkin’ off to that night you gave me my tattoo for fucking years.” 

Kevin’s shamelessness often brought a blush to Cole’s cheeks. He burned, savage and raw as he pushed his hips forward while he pulled Kevin close. 

“Me too,” Cole gasped.

Kevin shoved their underwear down and they were skin-to-skin, Cole at the mercy of Kevin’s grip. It was quick, months of kisses and lingering caresses finally coming to fruition. Cole shivered when Kevin’s teeth caught on his lower lip and pulled. 

It felt a little like falling, a sweep of his stomach and weightlessness that was exhilarating and terrifying. It was tendrils of pleasure slip-sliding across his skin, drawing sensation into a tight string before suddenly letting go…

Until it was Kevin and Cole on their backs, dirtied pants kicked around their ankles and still pleasantly hazy from the aftershocks. Cole studied the silver threads in the tapestry that hung above Kevin’s bed, sensation and the gloom of _expectation_ returning. 

“Would you be disappointed if I didn’t work for the Government?” Kevin snorted and Cole gently pinched his hip. “I’m serious.”

“Yeah,” Kevin rolled onto his side, trailing his fingers along Cole’s arm, “so am I.” 

Cole sighed and didn’t move away when Kevin pushed closer.

“I mean, I’m… I’ve got a rare talent for necromancy. It’s… I know it’s selfish to… not immediately sign up to help our country but…” Cole shrugged. “I’d rather help people like me, you know? Instead of resurrecting old wizards or bringing back an interrogated prisoner after they died. I’d rather… not.” 

“So don’t.” Kevin kissed Cole’s shoulder. “Simple as that.” 

“Malcolm said that… they don’t like being told _no.”_

Fingers gently carded through Cole’s hair. Cole pulled up the covers and the candlelight dimmed. 

“Sucks for them.” Cole snickered. He wondered what it would be like, years from that night, decades even. Would he still be smiling? Would he still in Kevin’s arms? Usually when faced with the awful fact that this was their last year at school, Cole would freeze, distance himself, and become sick with worry. Before he had a chance, Kevin settled his head on Cole’s chest. “Let’s sleep in tomorrow,” Kevin yawned, “okay?”

“Yeah,” Cole’s eyes drifted shut. He let sleep pull him under. “Okay.”

::::

Sol’s feet only touched the tacky welcome mat moments before the red front door flew open. 

“Sol!” Kevin McCallister threw his arms around Sol’s waist with enough force that Sol had to take a half step back to make up for the momentum. Of course Kevin hadn’t changed in the years that had passed, the same strange, uncomfortable _brightness_ shone from him. “You haven’t seen the new place right? Come in, I’ll give you the tour.” 

Sol Shetty wasn’t used to warmth on a daily basis given his line of work. He couldn’t recall the last time he saw colleagues hug each other. Afterall, when dealing with an Unspeakable, it was always best to not surprise them with sudden contact or noise.

Kevin McCallister never cared for empty pleasantries or traditions. 

A separate pair of rapid footfalls had them both turning to what looked to be a sunroom. Cole Sear stumbled in, hands caked in dirt with a few smudges across his forehead. His hair had gotten longer and was held back with a bandana. It was strange seeing them in an adult space, a _real house_ with a calm color scheme, sensible furniture, and ,em>wall tapestries and paintings. Sol had never been able to picture it for them, most of all _Kevin._

“Aw, geez. Kevin,” Cole pouted, “not all of us are gifted in Divination. I wouldn’t have been gardening if I knew we had guests. Hi, Sol, sorry I’m a mess.” 

Sol shook his head. 

“Not a worry at all. I know not to call ahead for things with Kevin. He just gets annoyed at being told twice, his words, not mine.” 

Kevin elbowed him and Sol easily dodged it, following Cole into the question. Cole washed his hands and Sol had to marvel, again, at how they were older, like him. He still felt like a kid sometimes, moreso when he was around his old classmates. 

“I didn’t know you got better with plants, Cole.”

“Hard fucking work,” Kevin drawled with a smirk, and no matter the amount of time that passed, Kevin still could just _look_ at Cole the same. A kind of love that Sol wondered if he’d find some day. “And you’re doing wonderfully, darling.” 

Cole blushed the same, a flush up his ears as he dried his hands. 

“What about you, Sol?” Cole poured him water. “You look very official.” 

“Recently promoted to Unspeakable in the Ministry. Can’t tell you the Department, I’m afraid.” 

Kevin wagged his eyebrows with an overdramatic _mysterious_ while Cole simply nodded with an, _understandable._ The McCallister-Sear tour was full of stops, to explain pictures, collections, and to catch up. 

Cole worked in social services, had a study that was mature and cozy. Kevin had an art studio where half the walls were covered with equations and strings of numbers, and the other was geometric modern art paintings, some pristine, and others defaced, with scratches, paint, or tears.

Of all the Hogwarts graduates in their year, Kevin and Cole had to be the strangest. Their home had simple wards, and Kevin hadn’t pursued a career in magic at all. Instead, he focused on art. The shapes and placements reminded Sol of half-formed summoning circles, overlapping until the meaning and calling was lost. It seemed as though Cole and Kevin had turned their back on the magic world.

“You’re still single?” Kevin snorted, rolling his eyes. “Yeah _right._ Look at you, you’re a tree.” 

Cole and Kevin had made a quick dinner, moving around each other effortlessly, the same way they had since they were eleven. They sat on the back porch, full and sipping sparkling cider when the phone in Cole’s phone in the study rang. He excused himself, promising not to be too long, and then it was just Kevin and Sol. 

Sol put down his glass, cleaning forward in his chair. 

“I’m in Philadelphia for a reason, actually.” Kevin hummed. He had glasses now, a bit of a stubble, but his crooked smile was the same. “There have been some strange deaths within the Ministry.” 

Kevin waggled his eyebrows. 

“Ooh, juicy murders?”

Sol snorted, grateful that his colleagues couldn’t see him. 

“No, Kevin, sorry to disappoint.” Sol pushed his hair out of his face. “Accidents. Almost an entire Department is gone.”

“Your department?”

“No. Thankfully.” Kevin exhaled, a strange moment of relief before Sol continued. “If I’m being honest, I think it’s what they looked like. Bad luck. Accidents. Sometimes people just have bad luck. But the Ministry, of course, wants to exhaust all options before signing off on the death certificates. We just need to make sure they aren’t cursed.” 

Kevin leaned back, the light reflecting off his glasses as fireflies flickered in their yard. 

“Okay. Don’t you guys have curse-breakers?” 

Sol sighed, the weight of work returning to him. 

“We do, but ugh, Kevin, you should see them. They have a laminated checklist of _Most Common Curses_ it’s so pathetic.” Kevin snorted and Sol hadn’t realized how much he _missed_ him until he was face-to-face with the American Slytherin. “The few left of the Department are completely paranoid and think their deceased colleagues were cursed.” Sol moved his legs, draping them over Kevin’s lap the way he used to when they were up late studying. “So my boss is tasked with finding people to hire as contractor curse-breakers, but really it’s just to appease them. He asked me who the most talented Witch or Wizard in Arithmancy was and so…”

He wiggled his fingers in the air, a silent _and here we are._

Cole came back outside side, a new bottle of sparkling cider in his hands. He sat next to Kevin, and Sol poked at him with his toes, cracking a smile when Cole giggled with a shake of his head. Kevin slung his arm around Cole’s shoulder, his eyes on Sol and his smile carefree. 

“Sure, I’ll go over it with Cole, and I’ll get back to you, all right?” 

“Of course.” Cole refilled Sol’s glass and Sol took a deep breath of the night air. “Like I said, it’s hard to believe that they were _cursed,_ unless someone has found a way to weaponize bad luck and to have that target a specific person.” Sol swallowed sweet cider as Kevin’s glasses slid down his nose, Cole’s smile small. Warm. “If that’s the case, well, it would be impressive, but we’d have a lot more to worry about then some dead Unspeakables.” 

Kevin grinned and raised his glass. Crystal rang in the night, fireflies flickered, and the Snake Charmer tightened his grip around Kevin’s waist.

Kevin grinned. 

“Cheers to that.”

**Author's Note:**

> Ahhh so a majority of this has been done for a long time, the new additions are the moodboards. I’ve been running around and I just wanted to post this to take my mind off some personal real-life stuff :(. 
> 
> Anyway, the cross-over pairing no one asked for has now another CROSS-OVER that no one asked for. I’m keeping this as a part of the Nostalgia series, but this is seperate from the reapersun comic. I kept the murder but yeah, I wanted to explore Kevin and Cole in different settings. So any more additions to this series will be that: little wanderings. 
> 
> I hope you guys like this stupid, 16k long monster. It was really fun writing it and I’m glad I can share it after it’s been sitting in my docs for a long time. Things have been getting a little nutty, I got a promotion at work right as some family stuff sprung up, so it’s been a weird mix of happiness and stress. 
> 
> Let me know how you like it, even if you hated it.
> 
> P.S. Sorry if the moodboards sucked, it was my first attempt... but it was fun!  
>  
> 
> I’ll still be active on tumblr for the time being, but there are other ways to find me. [**Here**](http://mia6363.tumblr.com/about) you can see a little breakdown of other places to find me and the other things I do in relation to these fics (journals/behind the scenes, playlists, head canons). [**So click on over** ](http://mia6363.tumblr.com/about)to get the full rundown!


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